Chapter 34
chapter thirty-four
The first thing Christine registered was heat. Not just the lingering warmth of tangled sheets, but something deeper—body heat, the slow burn of skin against skin, the kind that made her want to sink further into it.
Then, she felt it.
A gaze. Heavy. Intent. Unmistakable.
Christine blinked awake, sleep still thick in her limbs, and found Oakland watching her, smiling.
Not the careful, measured kind.
This was different. Unrestrained. Like she didn’t even realize she was doing it.
Soft. Barely there. Like warmth settling under her skin. Like she couldn’t help it.
Christine’s heart skipped.
“Hey, beautiful,” Oakland murmured, voice still rough from sleep.
Christine stretched, catlike, arms reaching overhead before curling back in, one hand lazily trailing down Oakland’s side.
“Mm. Keep looking at me like that, and I’m gonna start thinking you like me.”
Oakland rolled her eyes, but the blush creeping down her throat gave her away.
Christine smirked, dragging a lazy finger over her flushed skin. “Aww, look at you. Blushing like I didn’t have you begging last night.”
Oakland groaned, burying her face in the pillow. “Your ego does not need this boost.”
They were both naked beneath the sheets, bodies tangled, bathed in soft morning light filtering through the window.
Christine took her time, dragging slow, lazy fingers over Oakland’s ribs, hip, and thigh curve, enjoying the way her breath hitched.
Oakland shifted, pressing closer, skin on skin, their legs slotting together like they belonged that way.
Christine sighed, content, resting her forehead against Oakland’s.
“You’re thinking about something.”
A pause.
Then, Oakland nodded.
“Yeah.”
Christine hummed, running her fingertips over the dip of Oakland’s spine.
“Gonna tell me, or do I have to guess?”
Oakland hesitated. Then, she ducked her head, hiding her face in the crook of Christine’s neck.
Christine grinned.
“Okay, now I have to know.”
Oakland mumbled something utterly unintelligible against her skin.
Christine laughed.
“Gonna need words, baby.”
A deep breath. Then, still quiet, shy?—
“I was thinking about… that thing you did to me.”
Christine pulled back just enough to arch a brow.
“Oh?” she teased, dragging her nails lightly down Oakland’s back. “Which thing?”
Oakland groaned, pressing her forehead into Christine’s shoulder.
“You know.”
“Hmm. You’ll have to be more specific.”
Oakland huffed, then finally looked up at her, cheeks dusted pink.
“When you—” She swallowed. “When you used your mouth on me.”
Christine grinned, slow and knowing.
“Yeah?” She brushed a teasing kiss over Oakland’s jaw and her throat. “Was it that good?”
Oakland whined, squirming slightly.
“You know it was.”
Christine laughed, pleased, smug.
“Happy to do an encore.”
But Oakland shook her head.
Christine frowned. “No?”
Oakland took a breath and looked at her, softer now, unsure but determined.
“I want to do it to you.”
Christine froze.
Not in fear. Not in hesitation.
But because—fuck.
She wasn’t necessarily a shy person in bed. But the idea of Oakland between her legs like that, looking up at her, tasting her?—
Her stomach tightened.
Her face actually burned.
Oakland must have noticed because her brows lifted slightly, uncertainty flickering behind her eyes.
“Is that… okay?” Her voice was softer now, tinged with hesitation. A blush crept down her neck as she added, “If you don’t want me to, or?—”
Christine cut her off immediately.
“No, no—God, of course, I do.”
She ran a hand through her messy hair, still catching up to the fact that Oakland even said it.
“It’s just… I should probably shower first. Last night was—” she huffed a small laugh, “a little sweaty.”
She made a half-hearted attempt to sit up, but before she could even move, Oakland tightened her grip, pressing her body firmly against Christine’s, pinning her in place.
Christine stilled.
Oakland’s voice was smaller now, shy but firm.
“I don’t want you to.”
Christine pulled back just enough to study her face, brows raised.
“You don’t want me to shower?”
Oakland hesitated, then nodded.
“You sure? We went feral last night.”
Oakland swallowed, her blush deepening, but she didn’t pull away. If anything, she pressed closer, legs tangling with Christine’s, her grip tightening like she was afraid she’d slip away.
“I want you like this.” A pause, then, softer, but no less sure— “I want you now.”
She ran her thumb along Oakland’s bottom lip, grinning as she whispered?—
“Then take me, baby.”
Her pulse thrummed, the weight of the moment pressing down on her.
And then, she moved.
Christine let herself be guided, let Oakland settle between her thighs, let her breath ghost over already aching heat.
She’d thought about this a thousand times—being here, doing this—but now that she was staring, her brain wouldn’t shut up.
What if she wasn’t good at it? What if Christine could tell?
She knew how it felt when Christine did this to her—too much, too good, overwhelming in a way that rewired her brain. But what if?—
“You gonna admire me all day, baby?”
Christine’s voice was all heat as she lifted her leg, draping it over Oakland’s shoulder.
“Or are you gonna taste?”
Oakland let out a shaky exhale—then, finally, she moved.
The first touch was tentative, a hesitant flick of her tongue, just enough to get a taste.
Christine moaned softly, her fingers threading into Oakland’s hair, encouraging but not forcing.
And that, that was all it took.
Oakland hummed softly, her hands gripping Christine’s thighs, holding her open.
Then, a firmer lick, slower, deeper, taking her time.
Christine’s breath hitched, her hips shifting slightly, heat curling low in her stomach.
Oakland sighed against her like she was savoring her, running another slow swipe against her clit before murmuring against her skin?—
“You’re so fucking delicious.”
Christine felt that everywhere.
Her fingers tightened in Oakland’s hair, her stomach tensing, her breath coming in sharp bursts.
And Oakland—she was learning.
She wasn’t just doing this. She was listening.
Every sound, every twitch of Christine’s hips, every sharp inhale—she chased it, memorized it, followed it.
She was a little messy, still figuring out her rhythm, but fuck, it didn’t matter.
Because she wanted this.
Christine could feel it in how she held her, in the slow, purposeful movements of her tongue, in the heat building between them.
Oakland groaned softly, pressing deeper, sliding her tongue just right, working Christine open, wrecking her inch by inch.
Christine’s thighs tensed as she found her rhythm, her back arching slightly, her breath coming faster, sharper.
“Yeah, just like that. Perfect.”
Christine was barely holding on.
And then—she felt it.
Oakland’s hand slipped from her thigh.
A breathless gasp against her skin, followed by the unmistakable sound of her fingers sliding between her own legs.
She was touching herself.
Christine’s stomach tightened painfully.
She could hear it—the soft, slick rhythm of Oakland working herself, the way her breath hitched with every touch.
Christine’s moan turned into something more desperate, her grip tightening in Oakland’s hair. “Baby, fuck?—”
Oakland whimpered in response, hips pressing down against her own hand, tongue flicking faster now, sucking just right, like Christine’s pleasure was fueling her own.
Christine was right there, right on the edge, pleasure coiling too tight, too fast?—
Then, Oakland stopped.
Christine barely had time to process the loss before a hoarse, wrecked whisper filled the space between them.
“I want to feel you come around me again.”
Christine whimpered, hips lifting into her. “Fuck, yes,” she gasped. “Please, fuck me.”
Oakland keened low in her throat, like it physically hurt to want her this much.
Her fingers found Christine’s soft, slick warmth, pressing inside with aching slowness.
One at first—slow, careful, stretching her open.
Then another, deeper, curling just right.
Christine cried out, body arching, back lifting off the mattress.
Oakland kept moving, slow but sure, her tongue working Christine’s clit as her fingers thrust deeper, deeper, deeper.
Christine was shaking and overwhelmed, and the sounds Oakland made sent fire through her veins.
She wasn’t just fucking her—she was falling apart with her.
Her breath was shaky, her moans turning to desperate gasps, too close, too fucking close?—
“Baby, I?—”
Oakland moaned again, sucking harder, thrusting deeper.
Christine snapped.
Pleasure ripped through her so violently she had no control over the sound that escaped—loud, raw, wrecked.
Her entire body tensed and convulsed, her fingers yanking at Oakland’s hair as she came, thighs trembling around her.
And Oakland—she felt it.
She could feel Christine pulsing around her fingers, tightening, her thighs shaking. Giving her everything she asked for.
And she couldn’t hold back.
With a desperate, needy gasp, she pulled her fingers from Christine and pressed them back against her own clit, working herself faster, chasing her own pleasure as Christine was still unraveling beneath her.
Christine barely registered the shift before she felt it—the sharp tremor of Oakland’s body, the way her breath broke into uneven gasps, the way her whole body shuddered as she came, moaning against Christine’s thigh, shaking through it.
For a long moment, neither of them moved.
Christine was still shaking, riding the aftershocks, and trying to catch her breath.
Oakland was draped over her, panting against her stomach, her fingers still resting between her own legs, her entire body flushed and trembling.
Christine let out a breathless, hoarse laugh, reaching down and brushing her fingers over Oakland’s back.
“Well,” she murmured, still catching her breath, “that is a very natural talent of yours.”
Oakland huffed a small laugh into her skin, still catching up, her breath warm against Christine’s stomach.
They stayed like that, warm, tangled, both of them completely spent.
Then, finally, a quiet, almost shy whisper against Christine’s skin.
“So it was… okay?”
Christine groaned, dragging her up, kissing her slow and deep, her fingers threading into Oakland’s messy hair.
When she pulled back, she cupped Oakland’s face, thumb tracing the heat still lingering on her flushed cheek.
“You don’t even realize how fucking hot you are, do you?”
Oakland blinked, still dazed, and Christine could see it—the way she wasn’t used to this kind of attention, this kind of praise.
Christine let out a small, breathless laugh, shaking her head.
“I’m mildly outraged, however.”
Oakland blinked, still dazed. “Uh… what?”
Christine propped herself up on one elbow, glaring at her like she’d just committed a personal offense.
“I didn’t get to make you come.”
Oakland flushed, but then she smirked—just a little, lifting her hand between them, fingers still slick, still messy, unmistakably both of them.
“Oh, you did.”
Christine stared, the implication making her cheeks heat.
Oakland barely had time to process what was happening before Christine groaned dramatically, flipping them over, pinning her beneath her.
She sighed, heavy and resigned, like she had a job to do.
“I think we’re just gonna have to go again.”
Oakland blinked up at her, breath still uneven, cheeks flushed.
“Oh no,” she deadpanned, voice dripping with mock horror. “Not that.”
And then?—
Boof.
A low, judgmental sound from the corner of the room.
Both of them froze.
Christine turned her head slowly, already dreading what she’d see.
There, in the corner, was Gruit—looking like a headmaster who’d caught someone chewing gum in a chapel.
Staring.
Direct eye contact.
Horrified.
Oakland sat up so fast that she nearly knocked Christine off the bed. “Oh my god—was he in here the whole time?”
Christine dragged her hands down her face.
“Gruit. Buddy.” She sat up, leaning forward, deadly serious. “Tell me exactly what you saw.”
Gruit blinked.
Then, one slow, disgusted sigh.
Oakland covered her face, already halfway to a whole existential crisis. “I can never look him in the eye again.”
Gruit boofed again, this time with more indignation.
Christine sighed, grabbing the nearest pillow and hurling it across the room. “Dude, you were the one who didn’t leave.”
Gruit huffed one last time, then dramatically flopped onto his side, still glaring.
Oakland groaned. “He is traumatized.”
Christine grinned, brushing a lazy hand over her hip. “So, round two?”
Boof.
Christine groaned, covering her face. “Fine, fine. We’ll get breakfast first.”
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